


Worship Me In The Daylight

by lovemyway (vesper93)



Series: Stolen Moments [4]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Feelings, Introspection, Love, M/M, Morning After, Oliver's POV, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 22:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesper93/pseuds/lovemyway
Summary: Oliver's perspective on the morning after, when not everything goes as he had planned.





	Worship Me In The Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Literally did not plan to write this. Not at all. Was listening to a song that came up randomly on my Spotify "you've never listened to these before" Shuffle ('Boy In Jeans' by Ryan Beatty) and the line, _God is real, he was sleeping in my bed last night_ , just hit me... and I wrote this. 
> 
> Knocked this out in approximately 28 minutes, and I hardly ever write from 1st Person POV, so be gentle! I used to write in 1st POV all the time, but switched to 3rd a few years ago because I thought it made my writing sound more "mature". Not tried it since... so this is a bit of an experiment! 
> 
> Anyway, this is another 'Stolen Moments' piece. Any other cameos that you'd like to read? 
> 
> V  
> xxx

♪ _God is real, he was sleeping in my bed last night_ _♪_

This was everything. Everything I’d ever hoped for as I lay in the warmth of the sheets; heated by our combined bodies, and the evidence of what we’d done together beneath our cooling skin. There was surely nothing more than this; this beautiful, tight, amazing feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’d never felt anything like this before. The stilted formalities of what I’d done in the relationships that my family thought were most fitting for me to pursue, or the random curiosity I felt for various bodies when I was in college. That was nothing like this; this was like the most desperate pull, paired with the most exquisite push.

The pillow was comfortable under my head, as I lay looking up at the ceiling. I noticed that the plaster was peeling slightly in places; probably due to the age of the décor in the room. It added to the wonderful cared for shabbiness of the place that had quickly found a place in my heart as one of my favourite places on earth. It felt lived in. It felt loved in. And now I had loved here too. I was sure of it.

My arm was around the boy in my bed, I’d not moved from where he’d curled up into my side in the early hours of this morning, his body worn out and his mind overtaken by it all. We’d both needed to rest after everything we had explored last night, in those long exquisite moments after midnight. His skin was soft under the pads of my fingers. I’d noticed before that he had absolutely no chest hair, other than the odd stray one that was so pale and fine it couldn’t be seen other than if the sun caught it exactly right and one was standing extremely close. I doubted that he’d get many more even as he grew older. He would stay delicate, beautiful, and soft in all the right places. He wasn’t destined to be a built man, or to have the powerful frame of square-shouldered business man. I moved my hand softly in small strokes across his chest; the parts that I could reach. I relished the softness, and the slow breath of the morning breeze through the light curtains of the room.

From where he was lying, I could see straight down his naval, to the fine trail of hair under his belly button that disappeared under the bedsheets to his cock, and all the other areas I had explored last night. I desperately wanted to follow that line down his body, worship him in the daylight, but at the same time I didn’t want to move my arm and disturb him from his sleep. He looked so peaceful. I couldn’t see his face from this angle, but his body was relaxed in sleep, his slender frame rising and falling with each breath. I would stay here for the rest of time if I could, cocooned away in the world that was solely ours.

The blue shirt that I’d cleaned us both off with afterwards was strewn haphazardly at the end of the bed, half falling onto the floor, screwed up and dirty with the wonderful residue of our lovemaking. It wasn’t filthy or gross to me; it was just a testament to what we’d shared.

Then he stirred. Perhaps he’d been awoken by my thoughts that were pounding oh so loudly through my head. His body was slow to wakefulness, and I tried to scramble for words that would be adequate for this moment.

But then he sat up, taking my hand off his body and letting it drop almost carelessly behind him, as if he were shrugging off something distasteful. Something was wrong. Desperately wrong. This wasn’t how this moment was supposed to go. He didn't even look at me.

I felt the frown creep on my face, and I shifted, beginning to sit up as well. I propped myself up on one elbow, looking at his back. I could see the bones in his spine; the beginnings of muscles under his skin, his shoulders taking the pressure of his body as he leant heavily on his arms, trying to decide whether to push himself up or not. He had swung his legs out of bed when he’d sat up.

I made a noise, undecided whether I should speak or not. He half-turned towards me, his chin caught on his shoulder so that his eyes didn’t meet mine.

‘Let’s go swimming,’ he said.

And with that he got up, and headed for his own room, ostentatiously to get his swimming shorts. He shut the door between our rooms.

I didn’t move for a moment. It felt like I might die in that moment. My teeth hurt and a bile rose up in my chest; did he hate me? What could do I do to make it right?

I slowly swung my legs out of bed as well. Moments before I had felt utterly unperturbed by my nakedness, but now it felt as if it were something shameful, and I instantly snatched for my yellow bathing shorts that had been drying on the bedpost. I pulled them on, and instantly felt better. Like they had somehow provided me with some kind of protection against whatever Elio was feeling towards me.

I looked down at the floor, where his clothes from last night were still strewn. The overlarge white t-shirt, the baggy blue jeans. I picked up the shirt, as if expecting it to still be warm from his form. It wasn’t, of course, but it did still hold his smell. I couldn’t help myself, I put the fabric to my face, and breathed in the smell. The wonderful scent of muskiness, mixed with sunscreen and the fruit which Elio always ate. Perhaps there was the hint of vanilla, from his mother’s perfume, there as well. But maybe I was imagining that. I put it on the bed. I pulled on a shirt of my own, and shoved a pair of dry shorts to change into after the swim into a rucksack.

I felt like I’d been gutted somewhat. Some kind of hollowness had settled in the pit of my stomach as I opened my bedroom door to find the boy waiting for me at the top of the stairs. My heart leapt in my chest the moment I laid my eyes on him; it was like walking into the sun after time spent in the dark. It was where I wanted to be; even if he hated me right now. But that wasn’t what he felt either; he’d waited for me. If he hated me then he wouldn’t have done that.

I followed him down the stairs and out to where we had left our bikes the previous day or the day before. They all blurred into one here. He didn’t speak. He’d open up to me when he could; I would wait for that. I was strong enough to give him the space he needed, without the panic inside of me surfacing. I would control it for as long as I could, to help him understand what we had done last night. I know it must be a lot, and I would hold him, caress him, love him, do whatever he needed me to in order to feel at ease with all. Right now, however, he was like a jasmine flower in the dawn. He’d bloomed in the darkness of the night, heady perfume flowing free and beautiful into the dark, but now he’d closed up again, to protect himself from the harsh reality of morning. He would bloom again, and I’d be there to witness it again, and again, as many times as I could.

I’d shared my bed with a form of god last night. I’d be damned if I was going to let him hide himself away again.


End file.
